The Future Freaks Me Out
by JewelummsXO
Summary: Due to Roxas's problem with keeping all of his negative emotions bottled up inside, his school counselor has given him a diary...no, JOURNAL...to write in for senior year. Too bad he actually has to write in it. AkuRoku mainly, LeonCloud, RikuSora
1. I'm On Fire

**Omg yo it's Jewelumms back with another full-length fic! I know it's taken a million and one years to get anything out, but hell I can't just pull plot bunnies out my ass like David Blane (I think). **

**This one's very different for me because it's written like a diary. OMG ROXASZ0RZ HAS A DIARY WOT? All of that is explain via first entry. Plus, Roxas is incredibly emo in this story, but isn't he emo in canon anyway…? At least as a Nobody he was ("No one will miss me"). But so because it's written diary-esque, it's written the way kids today (or at least the way Roxas) thinks. But don't worry, there's no grammar/spelling issues and I didn't write in faggz0r 1337 or whatever. I have a reputation to keep up, thankyouverymuch. Oh my God I've talked a lot here…oh well. It's important stuff! So this is AkuRoku and…um…the length in the chapters all depends on how much Roxas has to say or how much he wants to write down. So they might be everywhere from one sentence to six pages. **

**p.s. - Title snagged by MCS. I always use songs as my chapter titles/story titles. And "Betty" is used to refer to….anyone really. It might be friendship in general, or it could just Axel himself. It all depends on how you want to analyze the fuckin song lyrics. Alright. I'll shut up now. GO READ!**

**September 1st**

I am so pissed off. Words cannot explain the amount of anger I am holding in right now. First of all, I hate writing stuff down. I really don't see the point of it at all. You spill all of your deepest, darkest, most private feelings/circumstances where any evil older brother could just find it and read it. Pretty dangerous if you ask me. So you're probably wondering why I'm writing this down now. My school counselor made me. She said that I have problems with "bottling up all of my emotions until they snap," and I should keep a _diary _(excuse me while I puke), this year.

So just as I was about to tell her that there was no way, not even in some alternate universe where I'm a thirteen-foot green gorilla, that I will ever keep a _journal, _she says that she'll be grading me on it when I'm finished. Did I mention Mega-Bitch and Horn Doug will be informed as well?

Thank you Ms. Anderson for ruining my senior year self-esteem completely.

She did say that she wouldn't actually read it, just check to make sure I wrote in it. Or did _something _in it other than throw it into the ocean and never think about it again (my original plan). I'm keeping this _journal _buried in a slit in my mattress so Sky Boy a.k.a. Sora, my older brother, won't find it and destroy my whole senior year _social life _as well. As if my confidence isn't screwed over already.

Anyway the first day of school is tomorrow and I guess that'll be the first official entry. I might shoot myself before then, however. Or get Sora to do it for me…not like he would. Hmm…maybe I'll just hire a hitman. They'll kill anything if you pay them, right? Maybe I'll just have him kill Ms. Anderson instead.


	2. Now I Think I'm Ready To Bust A Move

**So this is journal entry numero dos…dose…deuse…OKAY IT'S THE SECOND. Forgive me for never taking Spanish as a foreign language. This one is pretty short, but the next one will be longer promisez0rz. They won't all be this short because I personally hate reading short chapters all throughout a fic. But remember: they're not chapters, they're **_**journal **_**entries. It all depends on the Roxas side of my brain.**

**September 2nd**

So the first day of school was today. Oh joy, oh rapture, oh kill-me-now. I can tell this year is already going to be just like every other year of my life: friendless and completely content to be so. I mean yeah, there are kids who call themselves my "friends" but I don't want friends. I just consider them annoyances. You know, minor blips on my radar. Not a big deal at all.

School is easy pie for me. Having a non-existent social life leaves plenty of time for book-bonding. At least the books give me some kind of profit: good grades. What do I get from friends?

a) bad grades

b) useless drama

c) actually having to talk about my problems

d) listening to theirs and actually having to care (or wasting my time pretending to)

e) all of the above.

If you don't know the answer go jump off a bridge. Or at least run into a wall a few times. Who knows, maybe you'll knock some common-sense into your head. After school I usually have work, which is nice. I love my job, for a change. I work at an art gallery in the city, which is a huge commute from Twilight Town, but it works itself out. Going to work gives me a break from the usual drama of school and the annoyances of having to deal with kids I know (and the bastards I don't that think they can say whatever they want about me).

It's a small, quiet gallery. It mostly deals with photography and modern art, both things I am obsessed with. I might actually paste some pictures in here for the heck of it, perhaps I'll get extra credit? My boss is a nice guy, really quiet. His name's Cloud and we're a lot alike. Not like I've ever actually talked to him on a personal level, however. Then again it's not like I want to.

Usually all the job involves is opening boxes of art, setting up said art, re-arranging the art I just set up because Cloud thinks it looks too "unimaginative," then moving it back to the same place again, decorating, sometimes making murals or paper-weights, things that take up space. It's not just me though, there's this other guy that works with me called Leon. He's a really nice guy. He doesn't talk that much, but he's friendly. We do talk on a semi-personal level _sometimes_. If I cared about friends, I guess he'd be something of the sort.

Anyway I have to start my commute to Radiant Garden (the city where I work), if I want to get there on time. If not Cloud will probably start bitching, not something one would want to deal with. Especially when one hasn't had his regular dose of black coffee today.


	3. Check It Out I'm Rocking Steady

-1**Chapter three!!! Yeah because we all know how I have a reputation for pumping out chapters like a…chapter machine. Anyway Axel appears in this chapter. WOOT \oo/ Any of you who have no idea who Takashi Murakami is, Google him NAO. I command you. **

**September 5**

Okay so maybe there's been a change to my radar. You know, a new blip blinking away in the corner. This one just happens to be a _tiny _bit bigger than the others. Whatever.

There's this guy that's started showing up at the gallery like, _every day_. He has really long, somewhat spiky red hair and wears eyeliner and a has these two tear-like diamonds tattooed below his eyes. I don't know, it's just kind of unique I guess. It's not everyday you see kids that like wheatgrass smoothies. Personally, I'd rather not drink anything that tastes like my backyard in a blender.

But I digress. He does the same thing everyday. He stands outside with his wheatgrass smoothie, leaning against the fire hydrant, listening to his I-pod (I wonder what music he listens to…Wait! Why do I care?! I don't). Then he'll chuck it into the recyclable bin (note: not the regular trashcan), and come in. Once he's inside he'll walk up to the counter and ask if we've gotten any work from Takashi Murakami lately. Cloud will type some crap half-heartedly into the computer, not really checking but pretending to because he knows we don't and probably never will, then after five minutes say in a monotone: No, we don't and he could check out some of the other artists if he'd like or try back another day.

So he does. And he has been everyday for the past three days. What does he think we are, some kind of major art gallery? It's not like Murakami would just walk in one day and decide that he'd like to sell us some of his artwork to put on display, when he already has like major league galleries and museums buying his work for millions. But it's not like I'd mind. I love Takashi Murakami personally, but I'm a realist here. Clearly this guy isn't. Or maybe the whole thing's just an act? Maybe it's a prank? Whatever, I don't trust him and I'm keeping my eye on him from now on, which totally has nothing to do with him being incredibly hot.

Today in photography we got our first big project of the year. I can't believe Ms. Ventage would make us actually do work so soon into the school year. Oh well, it's a fun project at least. We have to take pictures of a certain person, place, or thing everyday for the first semester, then make a collage out of it. We have to have a subject by next Friday. I mean, I guess I could do this journal. Nah, that's really boring.

If all else fails I could just do the hitman I'm hiring for Ms. Anderson. Or maybe Ms. Anderson's dead body itself…covered in wheatgrass smoothie. Sure sounds artistic to me.


	4. Go!

**OHMYGOD YO. I feel so bad about not updating in forever, but I've been REALLY sick and school's been killing me and oh Jaysus. I think I need to sleep. This one's longer. Obviously.**

**September 7**

I'm such an idiot, I can't believe I didn't think about it before! I know what I'm doing my project on. It's obvious, I'll do the gallery of course! That's something that's important to me, I spend most of my time there, and it's an easy subject. I'll take a few sample pictures today, just to get a feel for the project.

**Later that day…**

I can't believe what just happened. My radar is officially broken, and apparently so is my gaydar. Cloud was completely supportive of the project, he said it would be great publicity.

So I was standing outside, snapping shots from all different areas when someone jumps in front of my camera just as I press the shutter. Guess who? Freak on a Leash, that's who. The kid I talked about last entry, the stalker one that has bad taste in smoothies. So he just sits there all smug and proud that he ruined a perfectly good shot and says, "Hi. I'm Axel," around a thick ass straw before taking a sip of the moldy green…grass in a cup.

The thing that really irked me though was the way he said it. Like he actually expected a response. I just raise my eyebrows all sarcastic like I didn't give a shit. It was nice to have a name to put to a face though, even though I didn't tell him that. He still didn't move and it was getting kind of dark and I wanted to go home all of a sudden. _Really badly_.

"Could you move?" I asked. I guess he didn't get that part though, cause he didn't move.

"You know, when someone introduces themselves, they usually expect an introduction in return." He pretended to be insulted, but I could tell by his cocky smirk and the way he swished the green vomit around in his cup, he didn't really care. Two could play that game, I thought.

"I'm sorry I don't speak idiot. If you want me to do something you're going to have to speak in English. Unless, of course, you don't understand that." He didn't answer so I got up in his face and pointed to my lips. "Leeaavvveee."

It was silent for a while and he still wasn't moving so I just flicked him off and began to walk away. His voice called me back.

"What's your name?"

I don't know why I turned, I really don't. But I did. Maybe it was to glare at him real harsh-like.

"Like I'd tell a prick like you."

"A week. Tops." He said it so casually, as if I was expected to know what the hell he was talking about. I hate when people make assumptions. I hate when people expect.

"Don't you have a cardboard box to go back to? A kitty? Someone to keep you warm at night? A trashcan fire perhaps?"

He chucked his empty cup into the usual blue bin and practically _slithered _over to me with the most challenging look I've ever seen. It burned me up, it still does just thinking about it.

"I bet you that in one week I'll know everything you don't want me to know." He reached out his hand as if to shake. "What do you say?"

"What's in it for me?" I asked him, eyeing him suspiciously.

"If I lose, I'll give you one wish."

"I'll have a magic lamp with that, hold the monkey _please_." He didn't even blink. "You can't be serious."

"I am. I'll do whatever you want. One thing, anything. No limitations." His hand stuck out again, begging for me to accept, to cave into his challenge. "I'm waiting."

"Not a patient person, Mr. Axel?"

"Not in the slightest."

My hand clutched in his and we had our stone cold stare-down that comes with any order of challenges.

"Nice to meet you Roxas," he said. My mouth fell to the floor. "You left your nametag on. One point for me."

I still can't believe it. Who is this guy?


	5. Betty Wont Stop Listening to Modern Rock

**September 8**

You know those days when you wake up and look in the mirror and say, "Self, you look like shit," even though you might not really look like shit, but you think you do anyway and it bugs you all day and you keep looking over your shoulder to see who's staring at you, and listening to every conversation waiting for the guy who says, "wow, he looks like shit"?

That was my day today. Wow, that's a really long run-on sentence. I need to take grammar classes or something. Maybe I just need some coffee…yeah that's it, coffee.

I was walking to the bus stop after school today, and some old ass van that looks like it's been through a junk heap pulls up next to me. The windows were rolled down and some rock song I didn't recognize flooded the streets like oxygen. Guess who it was? Axel.

"You need a ride, Princess?" I could see him staring at me through his shades. Well…I would've been able to see if his shades weren't so dark.

"Not from you," I flicked him off and kept walking. Of course he followed me, it was inevitable. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want," he said like I was actually supposed to know. Of course I didn't. Maybe he's just a pervert looking for some small child to press up against an alleyway somewhere and needs an accomplice? I wonder how much accomplices get paid?

"Sorry, I'm celibate." Lie. I kept walking, turning away from him so I didn't have to see how attractive he was and regret saying that. The car still crept down the road at turtle-speed and I wondered why there weren't any other cars on the road to blast annoying car horns in his direction.

"You mean you're a virgin. Another point for me."

That was it. I yanked open the door to the passengers side, threw myself in and then slammed it shut with just as much force. I couldn't look at him. Instead I focused on how white my knuckles were as I gripped my messenger bag strap.

"I'm not a virgin so shut your fucking mouth." I'm really good at this lying thing. I wonder if there's a job for liars? Oh right, politicians.

"So you're a slut?" He smiled at me, and when we hit a red light he tapped a can of soda against my knee (annoyingly) until I took it. "If you're going to lie," he whispered, "keep your stories straight."

You know the thing I hated most about today? It was the little thing that my stomach did when he whispered in my ear. It was like a tap-dance…one that involved a revolver and bullets against my insides. Maybe I should go check for some internal bleeding.

Alright well no bleeding lesions that I can see, so I guess there wasn't any real harm done. Anyway back to the story.

So after he caused my organs to have spasms, he asked where I lived. I didn't want him to know (of course), so I set him off track. Took him around a few blocks to my friend Namine's house, where I got out and entered her house, pretending it was my own.

"Who was that?" She asked, coming up behind me to stare out a crack in the blinds. My eyes narrow as I watch him drive off.

"He's not important."

What timing, Sora just ran into our room to show off a pretzel he'd bitten down into a heart. I hate dramatic irony.


End file.
